


A Fling With The Man In The Moon

by traceExcalibur



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cybersex, F/M, Manipulation, Pesterlog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traceExcalibur/pseuds/traceExcalibur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>The ancient Greeks would often tell stories of gods descending from the heavens to seduce mortals…though none of them included cybersex as a prelude. </p>
</blockquote>In an AU where Doc Scratch lives in the kid's universe instead of the troll's universe, he is still intent on manipulating Rose...but his methods are quite different.
            </blockquote>





	A Fling With The Man In The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This should be obvious but just in case it's not, have a disclaimer: Doc Scratch's behaviour in this fic is extremely creepy, should not be emulated, and if anyone treats you like this in real life you should be very, very wary of them.

Rose Lalonde was the very picture of a reclusive young adult. She spent most of her time in her room, poring over dark tomes or practicing her knitting or chatting with friends via Pesterchum. There were four contacts on her chumroll: a goofy prankster-in-training; a wannabe coolkid with a penchant for irony; a silly and excitable girl who had lots of dreams; and finally Doc Scratch, an omnipotent being who lived on the moon.

Despite being on her chumroll, the omnipotent being wasn’t exactly a chum. He was, however, an excellent informant. In exchange for her co-operation in advancing his mysterious goals, he would provide her with any information she desired. Ancient history, the perfect gift for a friend’s birthday, eldritch knowledge…everything was at her fingertips, all she had to do was send him a message.

It was a pleasant arrangement, but it was…weird.

Because as professional as he tried to appear, she was pretty certain Scratch’s feelings for her were far more than simply professional ones.

…or was it _her_ feelings for _him?_

  


Good evening, my dearest Ms. Lalonde.

TT: I thought I told you to stop calling me that. It’s creepy.

Nonsense.

I am merely extending a dapper, white-gloved hand of courtesy, as any immaculate host is wont to do.

TT: I am currently sitting in my bedroom. You aren’t my host.

I am hosting you in your universe.

TT: Isn’t that a little egomaniacal of you?

It would be if it were not true.

TT: In any case, wouldn’t it be more polite if you were to acquiesce to my requests, and stop calling me “your dearest”?

No.

I am being perfectly polite, and you are choosing not to accept my politeness for what it is.

TT: You’re insufferable.

You’re obstinate, my blooming Rose.

TT: Okay, that’s even creepier.

Haa haa.

Perhaps you should refrain from making such piteous attempts to have things your way, then.

TT: Are they really so piteous?

Yes.

TT: Sigh.

TT: I don’t even know why I bother with you.

You find me entrancing.

TT: Ew.

Saying ew at the truth does not make it any less true.

TT: True, but it being false makes it less true.

False.

It is not false.

TT: That is false.

No, it is true.

TT: If we continue for much longer, I’m going to lose track of the conversation, and surely that would be a shame.

TT: Why did you contact me?

Because I enjoy the pleasure of your company, and nothing more.

TT: How touching.

That is sarcasm, isn’t it?

TT: Yes.

A shame. I like touching you.

TT: …

TT: Why must our conversations always veer into such uncomfortable territory?

Because you want them to.

TT: Bullshit.

Is it really?

Think about it. I am an omniscient being. I am at all times aware of the inner workings of your mind. I know what you want, whether or not you know it yet, and I know that I must steer the conversation in such a direction.

Firstly because I enjoy our conversations, and I would like to please you. Secondly because it is necessary for me to get what I want.

This is something I have made clear from the very start. After all, I do not enjoy lying.

TT: So, what you’re basically saying is that I subconsciously want our conversations to take a sexual turn, and you are trying to seduce me.

No.

I am trying to ensure that you enjoy our every conversation, and that you are willing to co-operate with me.

There is a difference.

TT: Semantically, perhaps.

From an omniscient and objective perspective, there is a difference.

TT: A semantic one.

These arguments will get you nowhere, Ms. Lalonde.

TT: But you enjoy them.

TT: Don’t you?

Yes.

You’re more fun when you resist.

TT: Oh my god.

TT: You did that on purpose, didn’t you?

Did what?

TT: Phrased it like that.

Of course.

Are you going to admit that you like it when I phrase things like that?

That is a trick question, of course. I already know the answer. I just want to hear you say it.

TT: What, exactly, do you want to hear me say? What could you possibly think is running through my mind?

TT: What’s the goal here? To creep me out? To turn me on? What do you want to hear from me?

TT: “Scratch, I want to have cybersex with you.”

TT: Is that it?

Yes.

TT: That’s too bad, because I don’t want to, and I’m not saying it.

You just did.

TT: You know what I meant.

I do, and I know that you do not mean what you meant.

I never once mentioned the possibility of cybersex. Your mind leapt there on its own.

You understand what this means, don’t you?

TT: …

It means that I win.

Like I always do.

TT: Alright, I admit it. You turn me on.

TT: But it baffles me. I don’t understand why I find you attractive.

TT: It is as though the psychology I have studied throughout my youth fails me when you are involved. Why?

It is a mystery.

TT: Shouldn’t you know? You’re omniscient, as you insist on reminding me nigh-constantly.

That was a joke of sorts. It was meant to be taken literally. You are attracted to me because I am mysterious. I am a fountain of limitless knowledge, something which you have longed for your entire life.

I am also charismatic and sensual, and you are about to realize you have a kink for men with dashing suits and blank spheres for heads.

TT: I suppose I have nothing to gain by saying “I doubt it,” do I?

Well, I do like it when you resist.

TT: Right.

TT: …

TT: You can see me right now, can’t you?

In a manner of speaking, yes.

I do not have eyesight and even if I did my vision would be no better than your average 20/20 human vision.

However, I have an intricate knowledge of your appearance, your clothing, your state of mind, and the actions you are about to make. I could easily and accurately envision you, if I so chose.

I am choosing not to, though.

As I have mentioned previously, I do enjoy piecing the world together when it leaves a void in my omniscience. I will pretend that I am doing that now, and that I don’t already know exactly what is happening. It will be the closest thing to a sexual fantasy I can have.

So you can go ahead and tell me what you look like and what you’re doing. It will be more enjoyable for the both of us that way.

TT: That is a very weird way of achieving sexual gratification, but okay.

TT: So, uh, right now I am wearing a white t-shirt and matching skirt.

TT: My hands are shaking, heart pounding. I am feeling quite warm, and I think I should … take something off.

Please, do.

TT: (My god, I can’t believe I’m doing this.)

TT: My trembling hands slip beneath the hem of my shirt and lift it up, exposing a simple black bra.

TT: I toss my shirt to the floor, where it is followed soon after by my crumpled, white skirt.

TT: A hand slips beneath the fabric of my undergarments. I run a finger along myself, quivering slightly at the touch, detecting the slightest hint of moisture.

Wet already? It has been, from your perspective, only two minutes. It seems your body is sharper on the uptake than your mind is.

TT: Perhaps my body simply responds quickly to arousal.

Or, perhaps you have been rattled with arousal since this conversation began, and you are denying the truth to yourself.

By perhaps, I of course mean that my statement is completely factual.

TT: Are we going to do this, or not?

The decision rests in your hands.

TT: Not really.

TT: You’ve spent enough time stressing to me that you are in full control of any situation you encounter.

TT: The decision rests in my hands only because you are allowing it to, knowing that my choice will invariably lead to the chain of events you most desire to happen.

TT: Am I right?

Yes. Very well done, Seer.

TT: Then are we going to do this?

Yes.

TT: Good. I would hate to be left hanging now that I am already half-naked and prepared to masturbate.

TT: I have described myself. Why don’t you return the favor?

Certainly.

I am an omnipotent, godlike being with a white, spherical head which resembles a cue ball.

I am four feet tall, and six billion one hundred twelve million years young.

I am currently wearing a plain, serviceable white suit, with matching white slacks. My shoes are also white.

Beneath my suit is a felt-green shirt with a darker green bow tie, and suspenders.

Approximately every eight seconds, I crackle with energy, as is common for first guardians.

I am prepared to remove any and all articles of clothing as necessary, with the exception of the bow tie.

Bow ties are cool.

TT: Four feet? I was expecting someone much taller.

You’ll find that my height does in no way impede my sexual prowess.

Now that you know what I look like, I presume that your imagination is running wild.

TT: Admittedly … yes.

TT: I cannot help but lose myself to fantasies.

TT: Your hands, roaming across my skin.

TT: Your voice, urging me to let myself go.

Are you masturbating right now?

TT: Yes. Two fingers, dipping in and out, my hips shaking ever so slightly as I play with myself.

What if those digits belonged to a devastatingly handsome immortal?

TT: That would be nice.

Good.

You may imagine yourself sitting in my lap.

I am leaning against you, head over your shoulder. One hand is draped across your stomach, trailing down between your legs. Two fingers brush along your folds and dip inside, pumping delicately.

TT: Mm. I’d like that.

My thumb chances over your clitoris, rubbing it gently. My other hand cups your naked breast and squeezes it, playing with it.

TT: I gasp softly. My nipple perks at the contact, as if to beg for your touch. I am slick between my legs, more than willing to permit your fingers entrance.

I circle a finger around said nipple, teasing it. The sound of your breath turns me on. You can feel my erection pressing against your back.

TT: I thought you said you didn’t have any sexual organs.

I don’t.

But this encounter is confined solely to our imaginations.

What kind of lovemaking would it be if I did not have the requisite organs to best suit your fantasy?

Certainly not one that you would allow.

TT: You’re right.

And not one that I would allow, either.

TT: Okay. I can feel your erection pressing against my back.

TT: I wiggle my hips a little, push my rear against you.

TT: My breath is heavy. I want you inside me.

Patience, my dear.

I whisper such, as my fingers continue stroking you gently, slipping in and out betwixt your folds as easily as a puppeteer’s hand teases the soft and plushy innards of his false friends.

TT: (Oh jesus.)

TT: My hips tilt almost imperceptibly. I am becoming more and more aroused, slicker and hotter with every pump of your fingers.

TT: I close my eyes and lose myself to the sensation. My body is warm, and needy.

Do you want me inside you?

TT: Yes.

What do you want me to do?

TT: Make love to me.

Is that the best you can manage?

TT: What do you want from me?

Naught more than your deepest desire.

What do you want me to do?

TT: …

TT: Fuck me.

Elaborate.

TT: Bend me over and fuck me, hard.

TT: Take me.

TT: Make me yours.

TT: I want to be moaning your name

TT: begging for you

TT: fuck me, fuck me as hard as you can

Good.

In an instant, I have pushed you down against your bed.

I tear your panties away, and my undergarments join them in littering the floor.

You are desperately horny and it shows. Your pussy is soaking wet. You can’t take a moment more.

I am more than happy to oblige. I sink inside you immediately, slamming down on top of you, cock filling you.

TT: Mmn, yes.

TT: Yes, just like that

TT: Start moving, please.

I do. My hips swing back and forth with a feverish rhythm. I slide in and out, in and out, leaning over you.

TT: My walls close in around you, squeezing down. i want more. faster, harder.

TT: i moan freely, gasp your name. scratch, oh, scratch!

Your voice reverberates through the room and through my consciousness. It only serves to arouse me further.

My pace increases, fast as can be. My hips slap against yours, I am drilling into you as fast and as hard as I can, making full use of the body you have so graciously provided me to pleasure myself with.

And in doing so, I am pleasuring you as well.

TT: feels so good, keep going, i implore you

TT: i beg you.

Hm.

Your spelling and grammar seem to be failing you, Ms. Lalonde.

TT: hard to type with just one hand.

TT: having to forfeit capitalization

TT: grammar thrown out window too

TT: don’t really care at present.

If you find it too cumbersome to type whilst masturbating, we can stop.

TT: no

TT: don’t want to stop not yet.

I did not mean to suggest we cease the encounter entirely.

Merely that we transition into the physical plane.

TT: ???

Turn around.

  


A chill shot up Rose’s spine. There was a cracking sound and a flash of green light, and she turned around to find Doc Scratch standing in her doorway, hands clasped behind his back. She screamed and recoiled, grabbing the nearest object by instinct and hurling it at him. Her desk lamp smacked into his head and clattered to the ground; Scratch stood blankly as his head bobbled for a few seconds before shifting back into place.

“What a courteous greeting,” Scratch said dryly. “You truly are as excellent a hostess as I am a host.”

Rose’s heart was racing, no longer from arousal but from fear instead. She clutched her chest and took deep breaths, and slowly began to calm down.

“You’ll forgive me for the lamp, I hope. I wasn’t really expecting a visitor this late at night, especially not one who can bypass my mother’s expensive security system.”

Scratch nodded. “An understandable concern for a human such as yourself. For a brief moment I forgot that your species was so easily frightened.”

Rose crossed her legs. She was still half-naked, having been masturbating only a few moments before, and she felt rather self-conscious with Scratch in the room with her.

“I don’t think I am that easily frightened. I think you’re just creepier than you think you are.”

“Nonsense.” Scratch said. He began to undress himself, removing his coat and undershirt. His bow tie remained, inexplicably floating in front of his neck. He had a surprisingly muscular body…Rose found her mind beginning to wander, and shuddered, trying to focus on his voice instead. “As I have explained, I am objectively not creepy. It is your own personal biases that have convinced you otherwise.”

Rose sighed and crossed her arms, unamused. “…in retrospect, I suppose I should have known you would come. The ancient Greeks would often tell stories of gods descending from the heavens to seduce mortals…though none of them included cybersex as a prelude.”

“I am not a god.” Scratch corrected. “I am god _like_.”

“Semantics.”

“Are we going to have sex now, Ms. Lalonde, or have I come all this way for nothing?”

“What makes you think I still want sex, after the scare you gave me?”

Scratch chuckled and shook his head. “You still haven’t quite grasped the extent of my omniscience, have you?”

Scratch snapped his fingers and his pants and undergarments disappeared, leaving him completely naked. His legs were also muscular, but his sensual appearance was somewhat mitigated by the emptiness between his legs. He looked like a big, white Ken doll, and Rose fought the urge to giggle.

Scratch’s head tilted downwards somewhat, and he clicked his non-existent tongue. “You women and your fascination with the male anatomy…do not fret, for this is easily fixable.

Scratch concentrated for a moment, a green glow flaring up around him. With a crackle of energy, a glowing shaft appeared between his legs; a glowing, otherworldly erection. Rose boggled at the shimmering, neon cock. “How did you…?”

“Magic,” he said, matter-of-fact.

“Is it really?”

“No, but it is close enough for you, is it not?”

Rose frowned. Much as she loathed admitting it, he was – as always – right.

“You find the existence of magic bewitching,” Scratch continued. “The same is true of mythical beings. Say, for example, a handsome god from beyond the stars, descending to Earth to have his way with an impressionable young maiden. That fantasy – now soon to be a reality – drives you wild with excitement. Thusly, it is not unreasonable for me to assume that you want this, and that you will enjoy yourself. Of course, for me, no assumption is unreasonable. When you have limitless intellect, every assumption you make is both reasonable and correct.”

“Unless, of course, paradox space requires you to be wrong.” Rose said.

“Yes, but I am not wrong, am I? It is killing you that I am not inside you right now, driving you wild with pleasure. Your nethers are aching, your body throbbing. This is not a guess, my dearest Ms. Lalonde, nor is it misinformation. It is the truth, as you well know.”

Rose sighed and nodded. Her legs were trembling, her mind running wild. It _was_ the truth. She longed for his touch, longed for the sort of satisfaction it seemed only he could provide…

“Undress yourself, Rose, and position yourself at the edge of your bed, much as you imagined yourself doing earlier.”

Rose unclasped her bra and freed her breasts. Scratch nodded his head, as if to approve of them, and motioned towards her lower half. She slid her panties down, almost embarrassed; she was soaking wet and boiling over with heat. Shakily making her way to her bed, she planted her hands down on the mattress and bent over, sticking her ass out as far as she could and wiggling it, inviting Scratch forwards.

Scratch stepped forwards and stretched out a hand to cup one of her cheeks, examining it for a moment, and then slapping it. Rose gasped, her skin flushing red almost immediately.

“Top-quality plush,” Scratch mused, “As expected from a top-quality puppet.”

“Surely you could use a more arousing metaphor than that.” Rose snapped. The longer he made her wait and the more he teased her with that arrogant tone of his, the more desperate she became…and yet, even his snide remarks were turning her on. She couldn’t win.

“If you must insist on being such a buzzkill, why don’t we skip the formalities, and move straight to the deed itself? Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Again?” Rose asked.

Scratch teased her folds with the tip of his cock. “Again.”

Rose took a deep breath and steadied herself. Even now, it took a moment to psyche herself up. “Fuck me, Scratch. _Hard._ ”

“Elaborate.”

“…drive me out of my mind with pleasure. Make every cell in my body scream your name. Prove to me that you really are a god.”

“God _like_.” Scratch corrected, and he planted his hands above her head and threw his hips forward.

A jolt of energy unlike anything Rose had ever felt before ripped through her body, and her knees gave out immediately. Scratch was filling her up completely and it was like a constant static shock was buzzing through her, but instead of pain she felt only warm, thumping pleasure. Scratch gave her no quarter, pumping like an overcharged piston, slamming in and out, in and out, and every movement was another wonderful surge through her nerves. A low, torturous moan escaped her lips, and she pressed her head against the bed, hanging on for dear life as he railed on her.

She felt her body shuddering, weakening, toes curling and heart racing. The heat and the pleasure all boiled over and she was already overwhelmed by an orgasm, hips shaking, legs dripping wet, mind whirling. _Oh god, oh Scratch,_ she heard, as though from far away, but it was her own voice pleading his name. He suddenly slowed, dipping his hips back and forth gently, hands moving down to caress her limp arms and stroke her hair.

“Satisfied?” he asked, though he did not stop moving.

She slurred out a delirious _yes,_ and he chuckled.

“Do you want more?”

_Yes._

“Do you want it harder?”

_Oh god, yes._

“May I come inside you?”

_Please._

“As you wish, my dearest.”

Scratch reared back and then thrust forward again and went back to pumping as though he had never stopped. The static electricity coursed through her veins again and she was lost to the feeling of him fucking her into the bed. His cock pulsed and slid in and out, in and out, and his flesh slapped against hers and his calm voice filled her ears, _I told you I would satisfy you,_ and _You are mine,_ and _Your body is fantastic,_ and minutes or days or years or an eternity passed, and then finally he whispered,

“I’m going to come.”

Rose braced herself as he threw his hips forward and climaxed; what felt like a bolt of pure energy surged through her body, roaring through her nerves. Scratch bucked his hips back and forth, letting off wave after wave of electricity, each stronger than the last. Rose felt her vision go blank, sexual ecstasy coursing through her, body shaking and quivering, and finally he slammed into her one last time, and lightning ripped through her body and she was lost in a shuddering, overpowering orgasm. She was gasping, moaning, screaming his name, and clutching at the bedsheets and her toes were curling and everything was boiling hot and wonderful and every cell in her body was alive and every bit of her belonged to him. For a split second she swore she tasted heaven – or maybe hell – and then she fell against the bed, chest heaving, breath heavy, covered in beads of sweat. Her entire body was numb and she could barely think, but she felt more satisfied than she had ever been in her life.

“I love you,” Rose croaked, after ages of just lying there, breathing.

“Do you?” Scratch asked.

She focused, and tried to clear her mind. “…no. But that…felt good.”

Scratch nodded. “Good. I was afraid things were about to become very awkward.”

“You seem to be…making more jokes than usual.” Rose said.

Again, she was met with a nod. “A keen observation. It is a privilege I grant only to a few people. You should consider yourself lucky.”

Rose coughed a few times, and hoisted herself into a sitting position. Her body was sore, though she still felt wonderful. “I think I am going to reserve my elation for now. I still don’t trust you.”

“A wise decision.” Scratch stood up, and with a flash, his clothes were back on. “I am going to go home and relax now. I am glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“So soon?” Rose asked. She shuffled off the bed, and staggered over to her dresser to find some new clothes.

“Fear not. I will be in touch shortly.”

With a crackle of green energy, he was gone…but there was a new message on her computer screen.

  


My dearest Rose.

TT: I’m still not sure how I feel about that nickname.

You’ll grow to like it.

TT: I’m sure.

TT: I thought you were going to go home and relax.

I did.

TT: But it’s only been a minute.

From your perspective, perhaps. From mine, it has been hours since I retired to my apartment.

I relaxed, post-coitus, by rereading Tolstoy’s “War And Additional Bloodshed”. It is an enlightening novel. I should know, as I helped shape it.

Once I was finished, I made way to my typewriter so that I could contact you.

And here we are.

TT: Where are we, exactly?

TT: Is this going to become a regular occurrence?

TT: To be honest – since your omniscience forces me to be – I would like that.

My omniscience forces you to do nothing. You still have a choice, and this is one choice I cannot control.

Such trivial matters aside, however, the answer to your question is yes.

I am going to fuck you again, and you are going to enjoy it.

TT: You said earlier that you have something to gain through this.

TT: Care to elaborate?

In due time, I will.

For now, rest assured that your co-operation will be very beneficial to me, and that I will secure it in any means possible.

The means I have chosen, fortunately, will be the most enjoyable for the both of us.

TT: Mm-hm.

TT: And how can you be certain I am not the one taking advantage of you? I could just pretend to fall for you, and coax as much sexual fulfilment from you as I possibly can.

Haa haa.

You still think you have even a shred of control over the situation. It’s charmingly naïve.

I am certain you are taking advantage of me at the current moment. I am also certain that, by the time I am through with you, I will have broken your will, and made you mine.

It should go without saying that this _will_ happen, of course; if there were any chance of my warnings changing the outcome, I would not be giving them.

TT: That was supposed to be a joke.

TT: But there was a shred of truth to it.

TT: I’m not going to resign myself to the fate you’ve offered.

TT: I’m a fighter.

I expect nothing less from you.

It helps to keep things interesting.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other arrangements I must attend to.

I will contact you tomorrow.

TT: Fine.

TT: Good night, Scratch.

Good night,

My dearest Rose Lalonde.

**Author's Note:**

> BONUS LINE that I couldn't fit in anywhere:
> 
> S: I prepare to touch down inside you.  
> TT: Touch down?  
> S: Yes. As far as I am aware, humans enjoy touchdowns. It is why you invented space rovers, and football.


End file.
